


No Place Left To Run

by Leonia42



Series: All That We Are [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Original Character(s), Sci-Fi, Space Opera
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 11:11:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2770895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leonia42/pseuds/Leonia42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Author's notes: Here is my usual disclaimer that this is a work in progress that is going to be really rough around the edges until I can find an objective eye to help edit it. It continues the adventures of some of my original characters from "All That We Are" and introduces several new ones. As such, there will be many ATWA spoilers so you might want to read that first (but you don't have to). If you're looking for a Serenity-style story about making a living in space on the fringes of civilisation with a healthy sprinkling of character development along the way, then you might be into this. I am unsure how long this one will get but welcome any and all feedback. The setting of this story assumes a Post-Destroy universe.<br/>"It's been 16 years since the events of "All That We Are." Marius Atreides is coming of age in a galaxy without any rules. The Reapers are gone but plenty of new villains have taken their place. Marius and his crew must deal with trouble before trouble deals with them."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The end of the Reaper War in the year 2186 did not bring peace to the galaxy.

Many considered the firing of the Crucible and the consequential disappearance of the galaxy's saviour, Commander Shepard, to be both the conclusion of one conflict and the beginning of several new ones. The loss of the Citadel Council along with the total destruction of the physical station of which it presided over marked a new age, for better or for worse.  

The mass relays were also heavily damaged during the Battle of Earth, their intermittent functionality made real-time communication difficult as well as greatly impeding the near-instantaneous travel between star systems of which most people were accustomed to. While mass effect technology and dark energy were still widely used for FTL speeds, most transit corridors took weeks to traverse instead of mere days, effectively isolating the vast majority of civilised systems that were already struggling with reconstruction efforts.

Immediately following the Crucible's attack, the _Normandy_ was used as a neutral staging ground for diplomacy in place of the Citadel.  Various leaders were stuck in the Sol System without a clear sense of direction of what to do next. The various alliances which Commander Shepard had carefully cultivated to bring about the Reapers’ demise were crumbling at a rate faster than they had formed in the first place. 

The crew of the _Normandy_ were highly regarded as heroes by all factions and races. However, even they could not decide among themselves what to do in their commander's absence. Out of wishful thinking, they refused to name a new commander, not all were convinced that Shepard was gone forever. After many of the diplomatic talks turned into deadlock debates, it became clear that a third party representative, preferably from the _Normandy_ , was needed to get things moving again.

To that end, Admiral Hackett of the System Alliance determined that the _Normandy_ needed a proper leader, his choice was both practical and symbolic. With the most military experience at his disposal and a similar tactical philosophy as Shepard's, it was determined that Vakarian would serve as commander until the talks could be finalised. It turned out to be a smart move which ensured an ironclad relationship between the System Alliance and the Turian Hierarchy, there was little opposition to the idea as long as it remained temporary.

The following four years of political unrest were some of the most stressful times that the recovering galaxy faced and the _Normandy_ could not solve everyone's problems. Not one for bureaucratic arguments, Primarch Victus struggled to maintain decorum with the other races, all of whom were fearful of his military's potential ambitions. Corruption took root among the self-perceived weaker races and many clamoured for his support against their rivals, for the turians had suffered the least number of casualties in the war.

Eventually he could take no more of their endless bickering and resigned his post, allowing for the rules of succession to promote Vakarian in his place. Victus remained content with leading the turian fleets back to Palaven, still keeping the rank of general but only lived long enough to see his homeworld one last time before succumbing to illness brought on by the long journey.  This was seen by the masses as the end of the Normandy Effort and thought of as the Hierarchy's purposeful abandonment of the other races.

During this chaotic time, Earth began its recovery under the careful direction of a well-supplied and suspiciously powerful organisation formerly known as Cerberus. As ideas are not easily broken, Cerberus took advantage of their desperate charges without much hesitation, which was likely their main plan all along. The System Alliance (SA) lost most of their forces in the final push to the Crucible, what soldiers remained loyal to their cause were quickly poached by the newly formed New Earth Administration (a more generic and harmless name that did not carry Cerberus' old baggage behind it), their loyalty bought with medicine and provisions which the SA could not provide. The rise of the NEA caused a schism to develop on all human worlds except for Elysium which was settled by SA supporters and regarded as "Old Earth" by some.

The strong alliance between the SA and the Hierarchy grew to encompass support from the krogan who still followed Urdnot Wrex without question. An open invitation was extended to most other groups which had been devastated by the war, including the batarians of Kar'shan, but very few were interested in the affairs of others.

Elsewhere, the asari were greatly embarrassed when secrets from Thessia leaked out, they no longer wished to tell others how to live their lives until they could trust themselves. Similarly, the salarians also retreated from the wider galactic community to deal with a growing feud among themselves that had reached its apex when the genophage cure had been delivered to the krogan people on Tuchanka.

Economically, the drell and the hanar had managed to come out on top, having been able to ride out the storm in their deep undersea cities. Both races were experiencing a cultural renaissance. Unfortunately, the reverse was true for the elcor who had relied heavily on the Citadel Council to meet their specific needs and had little to offer in contribution to the other races. Many volus businessmen lapsed into economic destitution, no one could afford their services any longer.

As for the quarians and the geth, the Battle of Rannoch saw to the complete annihilation of the Migrant Fleet and the subsequent offensive to reclaim Earth from the Reapers decimated the entirety of the geth fleet that had participated in that particular fight. Pockets of survivors remained outside of the Sol System. Rumours imply that the creators and their creations are living harmoniously together on an abandoned quarian colony world within the Perseus Veil, renewing their relationship by enduring the same hardships together. Rannoch itself remains abandoned, a grisly reminder of what could have been.

Aside from capital worlds such as Palaven, Thessia, Sur'Kesh, Earth, and so on, most of the galaxy remains cut off and desperate. All space is as lawless as the Terminus Systems, rife with danger and full of opportunities for the most daring adventurers. Travel times between multiple systems are long and arduous, convoys and escorts are needed to bypass the intrepid pirates, mercenaries, and other scum which infest the vast black spaces outside of civilisation.

The frontier has never been so close as it is in the year 2202, it is up to every space-faring individual to look after their own.

 


	2. Chapter 1

Brendon Kosh had found himself waylaid on a deserted, no-name planet with a thick, gaseous atmosphere and an over fondness for the colour brown. He had been stuck there for nearly 3 Earth days with enough rations to hold out for two weeks if it came down to it. His once glamorous smuggling vessel looked more like a derelict wreck with each passing lunar cycle, not that the third planet orbiting the red giant Cannoch was blessed enough to possess a satellite large enough to be classified as a moon. Beyond the swirling fog, he knew that the remnants of a dying star of which nobody would miss was the only reliable landmark in the system that he could look towards while he made vital repairs to the _Voidrunner_. The clouds were as brown as the bare bedrock beneath his feet, a dusty brown covering threatened to conceal his ship from her eventual bid for freedom. Everything was brown and more brown, he could only hope his pale skin had also adopted to same look as his homogenous surroundings.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing back an uneven fringe which had become a real nuisance whenever he bent over to examine the wiring under the nav console. He grinned, musing on the ramifications of letting his hair grow out to a length suitable for a ponytail. At last he might appear both rugged and handsome, he would have women swooning over him at the next bar he chose to drop anchor outside of. Of course, that fantasy assumed that he would find a way off out of the ill-fated decision to refuel at his current location, a shortcut that was proving to be anything but short. How was he supposed to know that the trace amounts of helium-3 in the atmosphere were actually far more concentrated and volatile than the preliminary scans had implied? A halfway decent flight companion might have asked him to run multiple scans or pointed out the dangers in using unrefined fuel from the middle of no where.

The estranged pilot's mind wandered back to the populated bar where he was treated as a welcomed frequenter, perhaps idolised and admired for his strange tales of life in the black. It wouldn't have to be a beautiful woman that sought his attention, could easily have been a man, a true space cowboy with large hands that would ease the searing pain of sitting in the pilot's seat for too long, running up and down his back with a ginger amount of applied force. A shiver ran down Brendon's spine, a chilling gust had snaked its way up the ramp and into the bowels of his wounded space craft. The metallic taste in the air indicated another electrical storm was on the way.

Brendon wiped his hands on a small handkerchief, glancing down at his smooth skin and perfect nails, he simply wasn't cut out for mechanical work. Heat lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating the high ridge which had sheltered Brendon from the brunt of the violent elements which surely lay beyond. Another flash arced across the path of the first. Brilliant, blue, lethal. He couldn't waste any more time, he had to be airborne before one of the storms took out his sensors.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the silhouette of a birdlike creature swooping in and out of the clouds. Impossible, the world could not support any such life, he was lucky enough to stand outside without needing to use his rebreather too often. His heart rose, maybe it was a ship coming to answer his distress beacon. Brendon's brown eyes strained as he tried to catch another glimpse, the green-brown clouds were getting heavier as they made their way over a high, mountainous barrier. Lightning strikes were becoming more frequent and intense, he could only see the craft for a few seconds at a time. Hurriedly, he went back inside to retrieve a handful of emergency flares from a storage locker. He lit one and waved it eagerly on the off chance that someone sentient was out there.

The nervous pilot waited patiently to catch sight of the unknown craft once more but after minutes turned into hours, he resigned himself to the fact that nobody was coming for him. Reluctantly, he went back inside his ship to test the fidelity of the rewired navigation suite. The automatic process was lengthy, leaving him with free time to do very little while the power supply was in use.

There wasn't much in the way of entertainment aboard the marooned freighter. In an attempt to drown out the howling winds that were berating against the _Void_ 's hull, Brendon flicked on the extranet's radio signal and prayed that it might pick up something remotely interesting from a more civilised region of space.

"Welcome back to Drumroll, where we debate the current events that are most relevant to you. We keep you abreast of the major galactic moments as fast as humanly possible," a shrill, female voice announced.

The disclaimer for the show as meant to remind listeners that information could not be delivered instantly, it also made it clear to the more observant listener that the intended audience were those that preferred their news "for humans, by humans" and anyone sensitive to such a notion should find something else to occupy their time. Brendon tried helplessly to find a more open-minded channel but to no avail.

"Today we'll be covering a very hot button issue. The Hierarchy has began a massive shift in military protocol by recalling, well, as far as we can tell, all of their forces save those around Elysium. Your panelists today are Chad Newton of the New Earth Administration, joining us from London, Earth and investigative journalist Sophie Vaughn on an undisclosed assignment. As always, I am your host Alice Manning coming to you from the grassy fields of Eden Prime.

Welcome everybody! Let's start with some opening thoughts and first impressions about these withdrawal actions. But first I'd like to introduce a special guest who has joined us at the last minute. It's a pleasure to have you with us, General Pax Marinus. How are things out around Elysium today? It's been so long since we've heard anything substantial from that region."

"Before we get into much, I'd like to point out that I am here out of courtesy though it runs counter to my better judgement," the turian general said bitingly, obviously not thrilled with being on the show. Brendon could hardly blame him, he would have had been taken away from important duties to serve as entertainment fodder for a bunch of humans looking to increase their ratings.

"You could always decline our invitations," Manning pointed out, trying not to be flustered by a guest who wasn't likely to remain cooperative for very long.

"I have done so, multiple times," the exasperated general reminded her. The other panelists remained silent, probably enjoying the unfolding drama which would give them some easy talking points to focus on once it was their turn. "But since your team is so persistent, going so far as to breach our press embargo with blazoned disregard for those whom it is meant to protect during this time of transition, then I must come here to confront you directly, to hold you accountable for these destabilising attempts to learn information which is, simply put, none of your business."

"But general, there are many humans on Elysium that cannot openly access news relating to their loved ones on Earth or other NEA worlds. Surely that's not fair?" Manning was turning up the sweetness in her voice, making it sound very polite and non-threatening, setting herself up to play the victim card to coax what she wanted out of the general.

"I'm not the one to talk to about the fairness of legislation. My duties entail enforcement and nothing more," General Marinus said neutrally, evading her trap.

"I see," Manning said with heartfelt disappointment. "Well, since you're already taking time out of your precious schedule, might you want to voice any thoughts or opinions of your own regarding the topic at hand? We do value a turian perspective when its available."

"My opinion is the same as the rest of the Hierarchy's," he said dismissively.

"Which is to say it is nothing at all," Chad Newton interrupted with his usual arrogant tone. Brendon scoffed at the moral superiority which Newton was infamous for wielding. "Do you not think for yourself? No, of course not. And why should you care about what we think. To answer your original question, Alice, I think its very obvious what the Hierarchy is up to. They're mobilising for war, why else pull everyone back but to give them all fresh, shiny orders?"

"What about those stationed around Elysium, why haven't they left?" Vaughn spoke up at last.

"A good question. They have to continue to maintain appearances for the System Alliance's sake. Mark my words, if something threatens Elysium then the turian dreadnoughts will be the first ships to pull out. The SA would be wise to put aside their differences and rejoin their brothers and sisters in the NEA. It's a win-win for both sides," Newton pounced smartly before Marinus could say anything to the contrary.

"Care to comment, general?" Manning pressed in her overly sweet voice.

"Why bother? As I've said before, there is a press embargo in place for a reason. There will be an open statement made soon from Palaven in regards to major movements outside our jurisdiction so you need not speculate for long."

"By then it will be too late!" Newton declared. Vaughn made a gasping noise which enhanced the scare tactic's effect.

"Do you really think so? I've always worried about one race having more military strength than the rest put together. Why would they need all those resources if they didn't intend to use them?" Vaughn tried to rationalise, pretending she was smarter than Brendon knew she was.

"Exactly," Newton agreed with a hint of smug satisfaction. The best debates were the ones where your opponent made your points for you. Brendon cringed, it was well-known that Newton was an outspoken xenophobe who relished conversations that supported his humans first agenda. "They'll be going after something big, that's for sure. What larger prize is there than taking control of the Citadel ruins? Sure, it makes little practical sense but symbols can sway the weakest of minds. They wouldn't have to recreate the council or even use the station, just make it look like its theirs. Next thing you know the salarian dispute will resolve itself, the asari will come out of hiding, and even the System Alliance will receive more handouts than they deserve. As if we don't have enough problems to deal with on a daily basis without the SA taking everything that is rightfully ours.”

"How preposterous! We have no interest in the Citadel or taking over the NEA which I am sure is your real concern given the recent column you published on the extranet," Marinus retorted crossly.

"How can we know what your plans are if you are unwilling to share information with us?" Newton quipped back.

"Good point," Vaughn agreed once more. "But other than the potential symbolic victory, it seems like a strategically unsound move to make."

"Normally you'd be right. The Citadel holds more significance than you or I might extend to it, its capture would be a personal triumph for a certain primarch. It represents the loss of several lives in the wake of the war, in particular it is the resting place of our greatest hero who sacrificed herself to save the greater galaxy. What do you think Commander Shepard would make of things as they are now? And need I remind you of the close relationship she once had with the now Primarch Vakarian of Palaven? We all know it was more than 'just friends'."

"I've never thought of you as a romantic, Chad," Vaughn giggled in a vomit-inducing small voice. Newton laughed back, causing Brendon's stomach to churn uncomfortably. He very nearly turned off the ridiculous talk show then and there. "How far would you go to reclaim the remains of someone you loved?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to start a bloody war over it!" Newton exclaimed.

"I should go," Marinus stated firmly but no one paid him any mind.

"I'm telling you, if we don't address this now then we'll be facing a longterm conflict that will make the First Contact War look like a polite disagreement," Newton shifted back to his serious, alarmist voice. "And we're simply not ready for that."

"That's exactly what the Shanxi occupation was, miscommunication between two races who had never faced each other before. Your conspiracy theories do you not credit," Marinus piped up in an angry tone. Brendon would have listened to more but a ping on his omnitool warned him that another ship was inbound on a landing trajectory. He had almost forgotten all about the mysterious ship from earlier in the afternoon.

By the time Brendon Kosh emerged from his ship, another pilot was striding towards him with long legs and an outstretched pistol. A helmet rested under her other arm, a turian helmet judging by the shape. As she got closer he could make out more details, her outer jumpsuit was black with red-orange trim, a neck seal underneath was navy blue and indicated a much tighter undersuit clung to her shapely form. It wasn't uncommon for a turian to wear two layers to regulate temperature, especially pilots. Her physical features were a different shade of brown than the backdrop behind her, dark sienna skin with slightly lighter carapace on her face. The markings were hard to see until she was right up on him, white in the shape of the old Citadel logo. A rarity, not many Citadel-borne aliens had survived the war. Her eyes were bright blue and full of curiosity. Despite appearances, her standard-issue Carnifex did not waiver.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"Ladies first," Brendon bowed slightly.

"I am Lieutenant Atera Hellis of Havoc squadron, 17th flight wing, Mithros Legion," she stated proudly.

"I am Captain Brendon Kosh of.. of the _Voidrunner_. Civilian," he held his hands up to emphasise the civilian part.

Before more could be said, lightning struck close by causing them both to jump at the sudden intrusion. "Storm's getting worse, maybe we could take this conversation inside? The hailstones can get really big, you don't want to get caught out here in that mess. If you'd kindly lower your firearm, that would be appreciated."

"Fine, but I'm watching you. This planet is supposed to be empty," she followed him, though her hand didn't go far from the hip holster where the gun remained in easy reach.

"Tell me about it."


	3. Chapter 2

The two pilots sat across from each other at a small table in an overly cramped galley full of who knew what. Atop the recently cleaned surface rested Atera's gun, still with its thermal clip loaded. Atera sat on the side with a good view of the nearest door, hunched over in what she assumed was a chair though it was hard to tell with all the encroaching junk nearby. Brendon leaned back in a more relaxed posed with his hands knitted behind his head. They watched each other in awkward silence while listening to the passing storm.

"I think I felt safer outside," Atera said with a hint of snark.

The exterior of the beaten down vessel hadn't inspired much confidence in the seasoned fighter pilot, the interior had only managed to enhance the sensation that her host was a scatterbrained lunatic. Either that or his lack of aggression was a ruse to lure her into a clever death trap which was designed to swallow its victim into a pit of inescapable junk. If she were more of a clinical mind, then she might have been driven crazy by the sight of the mess alone.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly expecting company," Brendon said, sounding mildly offended. "She might not look pretty but she can can get you from one point to another in one piece."

"Civilians, how do they get through each day," Atera admonished, waving her hand around. "What are you, some kind of merchant that deals in crap that nobody wants?"

"In a matter of speaking. Laugh if you like but business is actually booming," Brendon kept his casual demeanor.

"Lot of ship for one person," Atera continued, looking around once more at all the possible ambush points that might have hid another crew member.

"Well, I'm between jobs at the moment. Sometimes I hire a few helping hands but they don't stick around for long."

"Can't imagine why. If business is booming, why can't you afford someone at the moment?"

"I lied," Brendon said tersely, he waited for Atera to react to his admission but she didn't seem wholly surprised. He wondered if she had picked up on the fact that he was a smuggler, he didn't want to rile up a potential friendly by outright stating the fact. "The difference between boom and bust can be a matter of seconds on any given day. But you don't want to hear my woeful life story, do you? I'd rather hear more about you, and just to make sure you're comfortable, I'll even offer some adult refreshments. I'm having whiskey, the good kind, what do you say?" he reached under his seat for a crate full of clanging bottles then procured one which was dark brown and unopened.

"I'd prefer to remain well-hydrated while on assignment," Atera dismissed him politely. She had been tempted, human whiskey was very popular with her squad-mates and she hadn't quite learned how to appreciate it as much as them. With too many unknowns rolling over her mind, she couldn't allow herself to become inhibited by a complete stranger.

"Suit yourself," Brendon shrugged as he rummaged through what was probably a repurposed kitchen cabinet. He produced two good-sized, round glasses and held them up. Once again Atera had to decline but he didn't put one of them away. Instead, he poured the amber liquid to the brim of both and downed one after the other in quick succession.

He coughed heavily for a few minutes while trying to regain his composure, "What kind.. assignment.. sends you out to find nothing?" He tried to put on a brave face, the good whiskey was not as good as he had anticipated. Atera hardly looked impressed by his antics. "Man, I'd kill for a nice bottle of Chardonnay on the next trip," he said more to himself than to her.

"The kind I can't tell you about," she said simply. Brendon was doing the exact opposite of earning her trust and though she was interested to know why he had found himself in the same vicinity as her mission, she didn't need to tell him anything.

"Need any help?" Brendon asked innocently enough. Though suffering his own mechanical problems, he was more than willing to help somebody else. Atera could hardly believe how upfront and welcoming he was in his treatment of her, most of her dealings with people she didn't know were under fire or in other similarly stressful situations.

"No, well, I don't know yet but I'm sure I can handle whatever comes up," Atera said with the utmost honesty. Brendon couldn't read her facial expression but he did notice her unsettled body language. She was clearly agitated about something which she wasn't ready to fully divulge. She kept looking down at her omnitool, waiting for a distraction to pull her away.

"Come on, I'm not as hopeless as you might think. You don't even have to pay me up front, I can send you the bill later," he laughed softly. "That was a joke, calm down."

"First, I need to know where my target is. One of my sensor probes picked up a ship in the system, bigger than yours, and I've been scanning each planet individually to narrow down the possible locations. The interfering storms on this planet were proving to be too much trouble but I'm glad I ended up coming down for a closer look. Nothing is worse than wasting time. The ship is likely on this planet some where, hiding behind the natural phenomenon. But as you can imagine, I couldn't pinpoint it with any precision so I sent out more probes to try and triangulate the position and get an idea for its surroundings. That's what I'm waiting on now," she held up her omnitool to indicate that she wasn't being completely rude.

"Huh, two of us out here is chance but three is a pattern. Why would anyone come here on purpose?"

"I've been tracking a group of mercenaries that call themselves the Black Stars for a few weeks now. Best I can tell, their most heavily trafficked systems all connect to the nearest relay. Could mean they have a larger presence out here, maybe an outpost or stronghold which serves as a base of operations. My data is extremely limited but I'm hoping to figure out what these guys are up to and disrupt them if at all possible.”

"You're going after a whole group of thugs on your own? I'd expect a much more thought out plan from the Hierarchy."

Atera hesitated for a moment, "I'm mostly doing preliminary scouting and threat assessment. But you're right, it's not the kind of thing my superiors would normally pursue. If you must know, my main goal here is to find someone who may be working for the mercs against his will. Could be a prisoner. Either way, I need to find him while the trail is still hot."

"Ah, it's personal. I can respect that," Brendon said with sincerity.

"It's not.." she paused to think for a moment.

Brendon appeared benign enough, overly friendly by most accounts, more so than he needed to be towards a complete stranger. She couldn't say no to an extra gun at her side if things were going to get nasty. Given the amount of information she had, that particular likelihood seemed rather high. If she took too long, the rest of her squad would discover that she wasn't falling in line and they would suffer the repercussions for her rebellious behaviour just as much as she would. She was already taking a substantial personal risk for the sake of a hunch, she couldn't ask anyone else to share in its consequences.

The human watched her with an intelligent expression, he could tell she wasn't following orders. Her friend's safety was more important to her than the duty to serve her people, that wasn't a typical view in social circles any more. Most people looked out for themselves and little else. That made the pair of them more alike than different, he almost felt sorry that she hadn't found him sooner. They could have made a great pair under the right circumstances.

Atera continued to mull the possible ramifications over before she committed to a response. She hadn't even factored in the potential effect that her actions might have on her friend's family should she fail to recover him, they were practically her family as well. The gravity of what she was embarking on settled across her shoulders, she couldn't very well back out now.

Brendon leaned back again and waited for her to say more, she could at least give him the benefit of the doubt for the short-term, "Ok, here's the deal. I'm looking for a young, male turian named Marius. We've grown up together and are really close. I don't know how or why he's fallen in with such a bad crowd but I have to get him out before he does any irreparable damage. As you’ve probably guessed by now,, I'm not operating under any orders here. I'm hoping to hit the mercs hard and use that as something to base my report on later. This is a huge risk for my own career but its even bigger for Marius' since he hasn't technically finished basic yet. So, if things go wrong here, it could majorly screw both of us over."

"High stakes indeed," Bredon whistled. He would have said more but she gave him a piercing look. She knew full well what she was getting into.

"Looks like those scans of the ship and.. a facility, or a small town perhaps around it.. are coming in now," she announced as her omnitool lit up. She held out her wrist over the table and the omnitool enlarged the holographic image, panning back and forth to generate the terrain and buildings.

"Not too big, not too small," Brendon assessed, mildly relieved that it wasn't going to be an unfeasible feat.

"Their ship is in the middle, looks like it is being used for storage. Won't get off the ground in a hurry. Don't see any fighters.. oh there are a few in the back but again they don't look like they should be a problem. The rest of the encampment is small, full of temporary walls and buildings. These guys haven't been out here for too long, harder to tell how long they intend to stay. Maybe they're using this as a testing ground? Looks easy enough to infiltrate though getting to the cruiser could be challenging if they're paying close attention. What kind of ship is that anyway, haven't ran into one of those in the black."

"I suspect there aren't many of them left. It's a batarian slave ship, you can tell by the segmented cargo bays. Those aren't designed to hold dry goods. They've probably modified the inside heavily to meet their needs so looking up schematics won't be too useful. Those turrets on the belly look rough, wouldn't want those shooting at the _Void_ for too long."

"Does this mean your offer of assistance still stands?"

"Yeah, why not?" Brendon shrugged his shoulders and rubbed his chin. The lights flickered inside the _Void_ for a few seconds, the diagnostic scan warned him that power was not circulating evenly through the conduits. His own ship was giving him the go ahead, "I'll need to get some tools to get these power couplings back online. The mercs would have them, most spacefarers would its just.. well, mine have gone missing. So I guess I kind of have to help if I want to get off this rock."

"How long will that job take? Getting in is going to be easy but they could be on our tails all the way back to your ship," Atera warned him.

"I just have to pop them in place, the amount of power isn't the issue but rather getting it to the nav console. Wouldn't take more than ten minutes to go from install to lift off."

"Alright, then we better get this over with," she said with a deep sigh. He wasn't sure if she was relieved or anxious about working with him.

"One question before we go any further. You weren't going to kill me earlier just for the hell of it were you?"

"No, if you were one of the mercs I was planning to use you as a hostage to swap for Marius," she said with a slight grin which did not reassure him in any way.

"Sorry to ruin plan A," he muttered. He crossed his arms and pondered, "Do you think a bunch of low profile mercs living out here would be interested in making deals? They're not exactly a smart bunch."

"I'm kind of counting on their stupidity now," she ignored the implications of his question. "What are some of your ideas for getting in close? We can hardly rock up with this broken space whale, they'd laugh first and shoot us down second."

"Let me think about it for a few minutes, there's a couple of avenues available to us."


	4. Chapter 3

"Where the hell is it?" the mercenary leader demanded as he scoured through what could only loosely be referred to as an office.  
  
The room was small, constrained, littered with temporary shelving units, lockers, and a rickety desk with a single chair covered in presumably important documents. The commanding officer of the Black Stars was not known for his personal tidiness. A tall human with a shock of finely cropped blonde hair, Captain Stanley, looked every bit the military soldier that he pretended to be.  
  
However, his incompetence was plain to see to anyone with basic training. The self-designated officer demonstrated a complete lack of attention to detail when his subordinate approached him. He didn't even look up to see who it was, so confident that his self-importance would deter any unwanted visitors. It took a great deal of effort for the new recruit to not point out these shortcomings to his boss but he managed to play along.  
  
"Something missing, sir?" Marius asked with the utmost innocence. Given that there was no where to sit in the tiny room, his options were quite limited. He kept his distance away from the infuriated human, like any good underling sucking up to the man would do, patiently waiting to be recognised.  
  
"No," the captain grumbled sarcastically, throwing more piles of crap off the desk at Marius who coolly ignored the tantrum. He had much more frightening experience with true drill sergeants, a few papers in his face didn't do much for changing his disposition.    
  
The human glanced up finally, almost with an apologetic expression in his grey eyes,  "It's nothing important. What did you want, Thorn?"  
  
"Well, you told me to let you know if there was anything untoward happening in the ranks. It's likely nothing but Wallace is having another one his meetings with the boys again down in the rec area. If you wanted to catch him in the act, it'd be the perfect chance to walk in unannounced. The others wouldn't question it much and you could disrupt whatever they're up to."  
  
"A bit early for a game of ball isn't it?" Stanley asked suspiciously, catching onto Marius' unspoken implication. He didn't want to let the new kid take all the credit, however, "These guys can't go a single minute without goofing off. Bet they can't even scratch their own asses unless someone reminds them to. What a bunch of pathetic losers, who recruited this last lot again?"  
  
"Wallace thought they showed promise," Marius reminded him neutrally, not trying to voice his own opinion on the matter. If the boss didn't come to the desired conclusions on his own then all of Marius' others plans would be for nought.  
  
"Naturally. He's too damn soft. And old-fashioned. He thinks being friends with the troops inspires them but he couldn't be more wrong. Fear keeps them in line. We're not operating a summer camp here, what good can come of a lack of discipline? When our backs are against the wall, we're going to be screwed," Stanley ranted while pacing back and forth as much as the floor space would allow. Marius couldn't agree more but he had to be careful in how he presented that opinion.  
  
"Maybe you need to remind the XO that you're still in charge? Not that I am telling you how to run your business. I mean, what do I know, being new to this outfit and as such a hopeless recruit like the rest of them."  
  
"That's bullshit and you know it. I don't hand out compliments lightly but you're one of the smartest guys we've picked up lately. Keep it up and you'll have Wallace's position in no time," Stanley said honestly.  
  
Marius mentally hesitated, he hadn't wanted to come off as clever but if it worked in his favour then he would have to embrace the notion with as much fake modesty as he could muster.  
"Thank you sir, that means a lot. Do you need anything else while I'm here?"  
  
"Nothing, all good here. Guess I better go placate the troops. Too much down time is getting to everyone, we need another job fast. But once again, Wallace has failed to deliver," the captain huffed and motioned for the exit with Marius in tow.  
  
The man was too irritated, mulling over potential plots by his rival to notice that Marius had hung back when he turned the corner.  He continued grumbling to himself as he walked away, giving Marius an audible clue as to how far he had gotten down the adjacent hall. Quietly, the young recruit jammed the self-locking sliding door with the tip of his talons, he paused to make sure Stanley wasn't coming back then slipped inside the empty room with the door closed behind him.  
  
He knew exactly where to go, having observed the room carefully on previous visits. Marius pulled the coveted ledger from its locked drawer, using the key code he had discovered in Wallace's quarters earlier that night. The ledger was immediately hidden among a pile of datapads and papers meant to disguise its bulk while it was being transported to its new destination: atop the XO's desk in another office further down the hall.  
  
Caution, secrecy, and a lot of planning had gone into the simple bait-and-switch, Marius couldn't wait to see if he could actually pull it off.  He was almost disappointed with how easy the action of planting the incriminating evidence was, in hindsight he should have found a way to make Wallace do it himself.  
  
The original item which Stanley was earnestly looking for had already been placed in plain sight within the rec area, poking out of Wallace's own locker. The object was some ugly trophy that held significance to the younger man alone, widely mocked and dismissed by anyone else. Unfortunately, Marius would have to miss that particular humiliating confrontation, he would have to be in position for the next phase of the power play, ready to be the dependable second man to whoever came out on top.  
  
Hurriedly he made his way out of the administration wing which occupied the upper-most deck of the grounded cruiser,  a mixture of glee and anticipation occupied his mind. He  was eager to see how his plan played out in reality, both so that he could see the results and to see how he could make improvements for next time. To win a battle before the first shot was fired had been his goal from the start.  
  
\---  
  
Atera began her slow descent into the mountainous hiding place that Brendon Kosh had elected to use to cover their approach. She had wanted to take one more cursory look at the upper atmosphere, to alleviate any concerns over any potential interference from orbit but also to note any useful terrain that might be needed to hide their eventual escape. The storm clouds were breaking apart, dissipating along the darkened horizon, she was running out of convenient excuses to abort the mission.  
  
Brendon had long since gone ahead, landing his heavier ship on the north side of the compound with a clear view of his target. Both of them had been forced to take lengthy routes that prevented any cautious mercenaries from catching sight of their flight paths in the middle of the night. Between the natural cover of darkness, the camouflage provided by the rocky pinnacles jutting out from atop steep cliffsides, and going in one at a time, they had taken every precaution to keep their presence hidden. They were all  standard, covert procedures which Atera had insisted on.    
  
Trusting that Brendon would hold up his end of the bargain despite the likelihood that he didn't have any proper infiltration training was a necessary variable to contend with. If things went horribly wrong, she wouldn't think twice about leaving him behind. Once her fighter was firmly on the ground, she visually scanned the narrow paths for any signs of Brendon's passing before proceeding to take detailed stock of the concealed location.  
  
She was impressed by how quickly the _Void_ had recovered after receiving the powerful electric boost that they were able to inject into her drive core. It was a one-time maneuver that would require more fine-tuning if the freighter was to take off again. The _Void_ looked like a sleeping monster in the narrow cavern, a once noble beast that had seen better days, Atera gave it an affectionate salute.  
  
Atera's own ship, nicknamed the _Peregros_ , landed without incident atop its delicate nose and curved wingtips, having no need for specialised landing gear which would have taken up otherwise valuable space for missiles or other weapons on other fighters. She quickly powered down the various systems and grabbed her helmet from the co-pilot seat behind and slightly above her.  
  
Regulations would have stipulated that she not fly without her helmet, not even if she were taking a short trip in the same atmosphere as her departure point. Nothing about her current course would be considered good and proper by her superiors. Even her fellow squad-mates might have tried to talk her out of it if given the chance. There was nothing to be gained by harassing some unknown group of mercs on an unknown world far away from anything that could be considered tactically important.  
  
Someone had once told Atera Hellis that family was a duty above any other. Magnus Thorn, Marius' father, had nearly been a father to her as well. He had been a good man and she took all of his advice quite seriously. She could not disgrace his spirit by leaving his son to amble into darkness. With that thought, her mind was firmly made up.  
  
She checked her pack briefly before dropping down into the valley, the freefall itself was short and uneventful. The single propulsion mechanism attached to the back of her suit didn't allow for much freedom of movement, not like the rocket boosters worn on the arms and legs of qualified paratroopers. But Atera didn't mind, she just needed something to slow her momentum when she was close to the ground and the EVA equipment was the right tool for the job.  
  
Once on the ground, her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she could barely make out the tracks left behind by Brendon and the cargo crate which he had slowly dragged along with him. The pair of them had argued for hours over how to catch the mercs unaware, proposing several disguises and convoluted back stories that might allow them to walk through the proverbial front door together.    
  
Atera preferred falling back on more traditional methods, it hadn't been difficult to convince Brendon that of the two of them he was best suited for creating a diversion. He had played coy when she had asked about what his exact plan was going to be, she assumed he was posing as a merchant selling his wares. What he did after getting inside was all up to him.  
  
She didn't like having to rely on him but he wanted to be useful and she couldn't bring herself to leaving him stranded after their chance encounter. Something about Brendon's harmless nature was enticing and not all of her curiosity regarding him had been satiated.  At the very least, she could make an effort to get the part he needed for the Void.  
  
Either the mercs were complete idiots or they were overconfident about their hideout's remote location, both possibilities worked in Atera's favour. No patrols paced outside the walls, watch towers were erected but similarly left dormant, buildings had been erected with wide alley ways between them. Twilight still engulfed the encampment, she knew that there at least a hundred individuals within the small fortifications but she saw very few souls mulling about in those early hours.  
  
Atera made her way onto the roof of one of the buildings by climbing up a pile of empty shipping crates and leaping towards a low overhang. It felt good to test her arms’ strength again. She almost regretted testing the roof's durability, the rain and hail had soaked through the weak concrete and she had to move carefully along the structural  beams to get to the next edge.  
  
She continued in this quiet fashion, avoiding contact with anyone below, looking out for a brig or eavesdropping for any reference to a recent turian recruit. Brendon hadn't checked in so she concluded that he was still busy with whatever it was he had set out to do. Her caution had proven to be justified, though the mercs seemed uncoordinated overall, they were certainly full of hardened criminals that weren't above switching loyalties. Mercenaries had once been respected groups with boastful reputations, some with codes of honour, but those days had long passed, it didn't take much to convince a well-equipped private army to turn to piracy when legit work became scarce

Morning began to creep in, more and more mercs awoke and wandered aimlessly towards the mess hall or the recreational facilities. Atera noted that very few seemed interested in going in the direction of the parked fighters and other vehicles, she wondered if Brendon had taken notice as well.  Activity was most abundant between the two-story building she was on and the gigantic cruiser, she would have to utilise an alternative route if she were to get close it.  
  
The cargo ramp provided the easiest access but a lone turian guard was busy pacing below the next building that Atera had been able to reach. He might not have been an actual guard, he was alone, unarmoured, and taking the longest smoke break the galaxy had ever seen. Atera grew restless waiting for him to move, finally she decided that she would have to take care of the obstacle or risk the increasing sunlight exposing her. Her omnitool had already beeped a few times, likely Brendon asking why she was taking so long to get in touch with him.  
  
When the guard had his back to her, Atera dropped down behind him in a crouching position, her long legs easily absorbing the impact. Her pistol was drawn but she didn't want to draw unnecessary attention. Quickly she tapped the guard on the shoulder, waited for him to turn to face that direction, then punched the back of his vulnerable neck with all the force she could muster. In hindsight, she could have used the butt of the pistol instead of her hand but she hadn't expected him to actually fall for the simple ruse. He fell to the ground instantly, more loudly than she would have liked.  
  
The tactic she had employed against him was not widely popular since it had a high chance of knocking out the victim permanently, often considered a coward's punch. Hurriedly she searched his pockets for anything useful, he had a keycard that contained a universal lock code. So he was a guard after all, that made her feel better. She propped up his limp body against a rubbish bin then made her next move.  
  
\---  
  
Marius tried not to let fatigue take over his senses, he had been up for nearly three days straight putting his plans into motion. Stanley was waiting in the boardroom for his colleague, Wallace, to  explain why he was trying to insight a mutiny against him. It was going too well, if he played his cards right the confrontation would happen within minutes. With an app on his omnitool, Marius was able to listen in from an adjoining room, it wasn't good quality since he had had to create the program himself with rudimentary knowledge on the subject. He had considered letting his friend, a salarian engineer that went by the shortened name of Dar'ren, test it out for him but he didn't want to have to answer too many questions.  
  
The room Marius hid in was little more than a closet, full of junk and dust. He heard footsteps approach, not the loud boots that accompanied Wallace's stiff gait but the soft padding of someone with much smaller feet.  He held his breath, he hadn't yet concocted an explanation for the casual passerby that might spot him. Whistling followed the footsteps down the hallway, whoever was there was not going away anytime soon.  
  
The whistler paused for several minutes before continuing his slow pace towards the next stop. Marius recognised the tune when he got closer, it was definitely Dar'ren. The door opened suddenly and a pair of big salarian eyes met his, he couldn't rightfully tell whether if it was an expression of surprise or not.  
  
"Antonius? What are you doing in there?" the engineer asked quietly after Marius indicated that he should lower his voice. Marius had been going by the false alias Antonius Thorn since joining the outfit, a  not-so-subtle reference to a father that he loathed, a name he was more than willing to use for devious ends.  
  
"Good morning! I could ask the same of you," Marius said pointedly. "Why are you up so early today?"  
  
"Hang on," Dar'ren tapped the side of his head, a radio app on his omnitool was sending him messages. "Well if you'd clean up that leak, then I could finish the job on your fighter sooner. Since nobody was willing to help me when I refit the last engine, I've not been in a hurry to get the next one done. Yes, I know you need it soon. I've been busy,  the least you could do is clean up your own  mess."  
  
Marius crossed his arms and tried to be patient, the awkward confrontation was getting more uncomfortable as Dar'ren ignored him. He needed to get the salarian to go away, even if he was a generally nice guy that he enjoyed hanging out with most of the time.  
  
"Sorry about that," the older salarian said cheerily, not at all rattled by the angry voice that had been barking him at him a few seconds prior.  "You're not..eavesdropping are you?" Dar'ren indicated the program running on Marius' omnitool. "When did you make that?"  
  
"Um, can we talk about this later?" Marius said, flustered by all the unnecessary questions.  
  
"Well, I was coming by to inspect and reconfigure all of the locks within the base," Dar'ren continued, ignoring the request to leave. "I'm surprised this room has a code to be honest."  
  
"That's great but now isn't a good time.."  
  
"Did you know someone has been stealing from the XO? Who would want to do that, he's such a respectful man. Unlike the usual thugs that aspire to leadership, he's actually proven himself. And I know he couldn't have stolen from Stanley, it's neither his style nor was he awake at the time of the robbery. I guess you just have to expect this lowlife behaviour in a place like this, no honour among thieves, right?" the salarian droned on.  
  
Marius shifted in his armour which had recently gotten to tight around his limbs, the buckles had to be constantly adjusted on a weekly basis and he was sure he needed a more flexible suit altogether. He could have started wearing the one he had brought with him from Palaven but it was family relic that he had to keep out of sight from petty criminals that would have ignored its true value. To his instant relief, crackling static began to echo from the glowing omnitool on his wrist.  
  
Dar'ren lost his train of thought, unable to resist the opportunity to witness a new piece of tech in action, leaning in closer to make sense of the audio amplifier, "What frequency have you set this to, the quality is terrible."  
  
"I don't know? Shh, I can make out a few words," Marius shushed him again. Dar'ren closed the door and huddled close. "Wallace is back. Sounds like Stanley is really giving it to him this time."  
The argument was getting heated, perhaps physical given the banging noises reverbating through the thin wall that the two of them were hiding behind.  
  
"You're the one who set this up," Dar'ren concluded in a whisper, astonishment in his voice.  "Why?"  
  
"Because someone needs to take control around here, neither of these guys knows what they're doing. Do you always have to ask so many questions?"  
  
Marius was regretting letting Dar'ren in on his plan. He didn't need someone to make him feel guilty for his actions, especially the one person in the entire outfit that he considered to be his friend.  
  
Without warning, a loud noise reminiscent of a close proximity land mine being set off made itself known outside the carrier. Both humans agreed to continue their argument after they had investigated the explosion. Marius threw up his hands with a sigh, the two men were supposed to be fighting against each other, not working together in solidarity.  
  
He looked up at the ceiling and saw that the panels above were shaking. One of the panels slid back suddenly and a familiar, accusing face glared down at him.  
  
"Marius?" she asked incredulously.  
  
"Atera?" he responded, just as dumbfounded.  
  
"Marius?" Dar'ren looked absolutely confused.  
  
"Dar'ren?" Marius asked, forgetting for the moment that his friend thought he was a young turian named Antonius instead. The sudden interruption had thrown him completely off balance.  
  
The ceiling panels could no longer support the stationary weight of a full grown turian and Atera came crashing down face first on top of the pair. Dar'ren managed to roll out of the way and missed most of the collision, Marius was not as fortunate.  
  
"Get off me!" he tried to yell at her.  
  
"I'm trying!" she said irritably, blaming him for the incident.  
  
"I take it you two know each other?" Dar'ren said quietly while inspecting himself for any injuries.  
  
He had pulled himself up into a sitting position, the two turians were busy dislodging themselves from the ground. Neither offered to help the other up, too proud to ask. Once on his feet again, Marius extended a hand to Dar'ren. The three of them barely fit in the tight space at their full height. Luckily the sound of alarms indicated that the coast outside would be clear of any activity.  
  
"Are you going to tell me who your friend is?" Atera asked tersely, Dar'ren tried to smile at her but she didn't seem truly interested in his presence.  
  
"Quick introductions then: Atera this is Dar'ren, Dar'ren this is Atera," Marius said grudgingly. "No, don't ask him for his full name, we'll be here all day. And I'm actually Marius if you hadn't worked that out yet. I assume that explosion was your doing?"  
  
"I wish," Atera scoffed. "But I might know who is responsible."  
  
"You always have to ruin everything don't you?" Marius said with exasperation.  
  
"Is that anyway to talk to the person who came to rescue you?"  
  
"I didn't ask for a rescue, I'm here because I want to be."  
  
"You can tell me all about it when we get out of here. Are you done throwing a tantrum yet?"  
  
"What, not like I have a choice now," Marius looked over at Dar'ren for his input. "Looks like I gotta get going."  
  
"Can I come with you? I hate this place, they work me too hard and don't pay well at all."  
  
"I don't know if we’ll have room. Atera?"  
  
"Kosh has a big ship, I don't see why not. Stick close, we might get out of here without being seen."  
  
Atera elected to kick the door down rather than use a more conventional means of opening it. She held up her pistol, ready to take out anyone who might become troublesome. Marius recognised that look, heavily ingrained battle senses were taking over her every action. Dar'ren shrugged at Marius and the pair hurriedly ran after her.  
  
"I warned them that leaking fuel was a fire hazard but did they ever listen to me? Oh no, why should the mechanic give them any useful advice," Dar'ren complained once they found a window that looked out over the section of the compound engulfed in flames.  
  
"Mechanic, eh? Kosh's going to love that," Atera said.  
  
"And who is Kosh?" Marius asked pointedly, almost sounding jealous that she had come with a friend of her own.  
  
"Just this guy I met today," she grinned, Marius didn't like the way she said it.  
  
She glanced over at him with out of the corner of her piercing blue eyes, he had to admit that he missed seeing her on a regular basis. He had been away from home for several weeks but hadn't seen Atera for months beforehand.  She turned to look out the window again, to assess the best way to proceed. He could see the intricate patterns created by the scales that adorned her scalp, when had he grown to be taller than her?  
  
The present was no time to analyse how quickly his life had diverged away from its original course. While he was understandably upset at the unravelling of his plans, Marius was reassured by Atera's presence during what was turning into a critically dangerous situation.  More explosions from outside followed by shouts, alarms, and stomping footprints in an adjoining hall forced the three outsiders to move with utmost haste towards the upper most deck of the grounded vessel.  
  
Most of the activity was funnelled towards the commotion, they didn't run into any mercs while Atera systematically moved them from room to room. Neither Dar'ren or Marius was armed. Atera yelled into her lit up omnitool, oblivious to their basic survival needs.  
  
"Where are you coming from?" she demanded.  
  
"I'm heading for the ship, just like you said!" a panicked, male voice responded.  
  
"I didn't say to come here, you were supposed to be keeping a low profile so that we could slip out unnoticed."  
  
"Yeah, you could say that plan...backfired," the voice said with a cynical chuckle. "Safety in numbers, right? I'll be coming in hot so you better have a plan by the time I reach you."  
  
"Where are you going, Marius?" Atera snapped her attention to him, cutting Kosh off.  
  
"Well, if you don't mind, I wouldn't put much trust in a single Carnifex between the three of us. If we keep going up, we'll end up trapped in here with no way out. Guns have a way of opening up new options, don't you think?" he said with much more attitude than he intended to. He didn't wait for her response. Dar'ren followed after him, apologising profusely for being such a burden.  
  
Eventually Marius found what he was looking for: a personal storage crate full of discarded weaponry and unused thermal clips, tucked away in a hidey hole underneath a desk. Atera was across the way in another room, still arguing with the lit up device on her wrist. Apparently Kosh had been asked to perform a subtle diversion but his lack of proper military training hadn't equipped him to handle the mess he had managed to unleash when it wrong.  
  
"I guess a Vindicator will have to suffice," Marius said with exaggerated displeasure. He actually didn't mind the basic assault rifle model, it packed a hefty punch at the sacrifice of a wide and consistent spread. Every shot had to count.  "Find anything you can use?"  
  
"The only thing I feel remotely safe carrying is this Tempest SMG. Have you ever killed anyone before, kid?" Dar'ren said, his voice growing shaky as he fumbled a fresh thermal clip into the tiny barrel.  
  
The question sounded ridiculous to Marius, he had been conditioned his entire, short life to serve his people by eliminating all threats through combat. Life and death were inconsequential to that process, all one had to do was finish the job they were assigned. He wouldn't have joined up with a mercenary company if he didn't feel confidant in his ability to kill anyone who opposed him.  
  
"Atera's already moved, come on," Marius said instead, he was overly anxious to have the opportunity to use his weapon.  
  
They rounded a few more corners towards a lift, taking a different path than the one covered by Atera who had seemingly lost interest in them. Marius caught sight of an open door way just as a human in armour came bounding  towards them from the opposite direction. His gun was drawn but held limply in his arms. Fear played over his face as he confronted Marius in a tight corridor stalemate. Dar'ren was patiently awaiting the all clear signal, unaware of the confrontation.  
  
Instinct took control, Marius lunged at the paralysed human, determined to make the first and last move in a singular motion. He brought his rifle up high then crashing down, landing the butt of the stock hard against the human's chest. Cracks reached out from the impact zone along the chestplate which should have been sufficient protection for the important vitals which is was designed to safeguard. The man was stunned, he stumbled backwards a couple of steps before falling onto his back.  
  
Dar'ren appeared from his obscured position to take stock of the loud noise produced by the attack. A short shout emitted from the man as he struggled to reach for his loosed gun.  Marius didn't hesitate, he lowered his weapon's nose and discharged two shots into the man's forehead, immediately releasing him from his pain and misery.  
  
The nervous engineer looked startled by how coolly Marius had taken the other man down, "Did you even know that guy?"  
  
"No idea who he is, I didn't like any of these mercs anyway," Marius shrugged casually, as if he had simply killed a stubborn mosquito.  
  
He watched the blood pour from the fresh head wound, enthralled by its colour and viscosity. Was he supposed to feel some remorse for acting in self-defence? He looked again to the gun in his hands, he had fired many at practice targets in the past. Suddenly, he found himself appreciating the full power that he wielded.  
  
"To answer your question from earlier, now I have. But do not tell Atera about this under any circumstances. I don't need to give her any more reasons to treat me like a child," Marius warned the much more squeamish salarian.  
  
"You got it. Hey Thorn, or whatever your name is, I might have an idea if we can get down to the cargo hold."


	5. Chapter 4

"Our problems are about to get exponentially worse," Brendon panted, ducking back behind a small door frame. The door led to what he surmised was a highly defendable location. In actuality, they were boxed in what was merely an unloaded shipping container with a single entry point.

" _Our_ problems? Oh no, no, no. These are your friends, Kosh. You're going to have to let them down gently. There's not enough room in here for all of us," Atera also took cover on the opposite side of the door frame from her new, unwanted partner in crime.

Glancing shots bounced loudly off of the thin metal that they were suddenly reliant upon. Atera was armed with her one military-issued pistol, Brendon had two shiny Paladin pistols  that didn't look like they had seen much use. Judging by his inability to alternate fire or hit much of anything at all, they were about as useful as glorified paper weights, proving that quantity was not always a match for quality.

"Damn it, you're scattering them when you blindly spray like that. I had a shot lined up, could you stop shooting if you aren't going to hit anything?" she growled at him, once more pulling back into cover to reload her clip.

"First you want me to help then you don't. Make up your mind, sweetheart," the human said with a sardonic expression while reaching for a handful of fresh thermal clips on his belt. "Hey how many spares have you got over there?"

"Not enough to make a difference," she said with a dismissive tone. "Well, they're not going to take any more ground with us already pinned in like this so that's something. We'll have to slowly whittle them down if we want to move to a better position."

"Where's this friend of yours anyway?"

"Marius? I don't know, he was right behind me a few levels up then he must have wandered off. It's ok, he'll know how to help when he gets here. Might peel off their weaker shots. More worried about how effective the salarian will be, didn't look like a seasoned fighter."

"This is turning out to be quite the party, you sure know how to show a guy a good time," Brendon lunged out with one gun and took out one of the guys that Atera had been trying to line up since the fight had begun with an effortless volley of three shots. She tried to pretend that she hadn't noticed his reversal in fortunes.

Their opponents wore a mishmash of armour and normal clothes as they came into the fray. Despite their haphazard appearance, they were fully alert, each anxious to prove themselves to be more bold and dangerous than their fellow peers. They didn't strike together as one cohesive unit and Atera spotted more than one of the rookies fumbling with the safety on their weapons. She deduced that outflanking them would be the easiest method to thin out their ranks, the only real trouble was being outnumbered at the onset.

Lucky for them, no one had brought a rifle to a close quarters firefight. Unlucky for them, Brendon's minute grasp of navigation had led them straight into a deadend, severely limiting their options. Atera surmised that he must have been one of those pilots that fared better in space than on the ground. She was certain that  if he could fight as well as he could commentate their every move then everything was going to be ok. It was perhaps the best use of his constant dramatics which were eroding her ability to focus.

"What's with that outfit of yours? I hope you weren't trying to blend in, its completely impractical," Atera tried to strike up conversation during a brief lull.

The mercs were too busy yelling at each other, an argument arose from differing interpretations of how to follow standard combat protocols. The protocols were a series of programs meant to give them updates as well as orders on their omnitool devices and wasn’t functioning as it it should have.

"What, you offend me. This highly fashionable leather. Who cares about practicality when good looks can be more lethal than any weapon," Brendon said with mock exasperation. Atera didn't know enough about humans to discern between what constituted as attractive or not among their kind. She was, however, well-versed in exaggerated sarcasm.

"Did you forget the hat and whip or were those props too expensive?" she pressed, not bothering to disguise the indignation in her voice.

"Can you imagine these beautiful locks hiding beneath a well-intentioned but overly obstructive piece of gentlemanly head attire? No, didn't think so. As for the whip, I think you've been watching too many of those old 20th century vids. Real life isn't nearly as glamorous as all that, not even with this handsome chap at your side," he winked at her.

She responded by throwing him another handful of thermal clips in the hopes that he would talk less while shooting, "Those are my last so try not to waste them."

 ---

"What do you have in this thing, a collection of space rocks?" Dar'ren complained through grunting breaths. Behind him, he was dragging a loaded strongbox full of Marius' belongings which they had sneakingly recovered while the mercs were distracted by the ensuing gunfight on the lower decks.

"Careful with that, some of those items are precious family heirlooms," Marius reminded his disgruntled friend.

"How about you carry your own junk," the salarian snapped at him. Marius waved his hand to shush him, they were getting close to the firefight judging by the sound of ricocheting bullets.

"I offered to," Marius whispered while waiting to make sure the path was clear.  He had originally wanted to move via the lifts but the mercs had turned them off once they reached the engagement zone to prevent their quarry from making an easy escape. Dar'ren had repeatedly pointed out the folly in choosing personal effects over an expedited route to the other two members of their party, "You said you'd rather cover the rear."

"Yeah but I can't lift this thing as well as you. Anyway, why are we taking this into the fray? We could use the chaos to our advantage and slip away unnoticed.”

"And then what? Both ships at our disposal have their pilots currently detained, we have to help them just as they came to help us in the first place."

"If we went up, we could get to the controls and attempt to lift off, it'd be difficult for two of us but it could be done," Dar'ren continued with his aversion-to-conflict logic. The idea of flying a cruiser with a crew of two was ludicrous at best and it didn’t account for the problem posed by its current inhabitants.

"You're not thinking ahead, you can't just make decisions without considering all of the possible outcomes. The lengths you go to to avoid a fight are truly astonishing. If you're coming with me than I need to know you won't just cut and run when things get difficult," Marius was growing weary of the salarian's excuses, his insufferable inclination towards cowardice. He knew the engineer had a brilliant mind underneath his shaky exterior but he wasn't about to depend on someone whose first thought was to runaway. "I'm going down there with or without you. Atera came all this way for me and I won't abandon her. Do whatever you want but don't get in the way."

Marius moved out tentatively onto a narrow maintenance ladder which fed into a network of cat walks above the cargo hold. He didn't look back to see if Dar'ren had chosen to follow him. With a great amount of effort, he climbed the rungs, scaling the wall space that separated the cargo bay from the remainder of the ship. He could hear the occasional round of gun fire from below, muffled by the thick layers of material that concealed his descent.

The shots were becoming more sporadic, the fight was dying down before he could join the action. He wanted to blame Dar'ren for slowing him down, there was little value in bringing the engineer along. Marius, unlike most young men, was keenly aware of his limitations and lack of experience, two characteristics he had hoped to improve upon during his time spent with the mercs. What surprised him more than anything was his innate ability to keep a level head while the situation blew out of his control.

A loud banging noise above indicated that Dar'ren had elected to hedge his bets. He slowly made his way towards Marius with the large box strapped to his back. When he reached him after several long pauses of trying to balance the awkward load, Marius immediately began to look for a location to temporarily hide the cumbersome object. It was proving to be too much of a liability for either of them. He would not give up on the contents in contained, even if it resulted in a reckless action.

"See if we can ease into that corner over there, then we can drop down and work our way towards the others," Marius said, grabbing the backstraps and buckling them to his own person.

"Is it really worth all this trouble?" Dar’ren asked for the upteenth time.

"Yes, that's why it has so many lock combinations. I couldn't afford to leave it behind because I don't know if I'll ever return home. These items are incredibly important, without them I would have nothing,” he waited for the inevitable statement about how having nothing was better than being dead but no lecture was forthcoming.

"Can we even reach your friend from here?"

"I don't know but we have to try,” Marius waited for Dar’ren to reach his new position before continuing, “What about your plan? You never said what it was."

"Well, I have a bit of a hobby project at the back of the hold. There's a couple of vehicles of various types back there. None of them are functional except possibly one if I can get to it."

"What kind of vehicle are we talking about? If it's at the back then there will be a host of problems preventing us from moving it."

"Oh, that's not a concern. The real worry will be the fuel, jumping the engine, and getting everyone together. Once we're inside, we should be safe for a couple of minutes."

Marius was understandably sceptical, anything less than a tank would expose them to whatever the mercs decided to throw at them. The cargo hold was hardly organised or wide enough to allow for the movement of heavy machinery within its constraints. On the other hand, he wasn't thrilled with the prospect of going out on foot either, there was still a significant amount of distance to cover if they managed to get out of the compound.

The land beyond the makeshift walls was desolate, a vehicle could provide both shelter and a means of rapid transit depending its design. The lack of sufficient details on the miracle escape vehicle was just as suspect as Dar'ren's unwillingness to take the safety off of his gun but Marius had more immediate things to worry about.

\---

"How many have we got?"

"Stick your head out and see for yourself."

"Haven't you got some fancy infrared tech on your omnitool or something?"

"If I did, wouldn't drain its power for something so menial. The number of guns firing at us has diminished, hard to say if they have more men coming in reserve though."

Brendon sighed and slouched to the ground, both guns lay at his sides, fully depleted of their remaining clips. For all her bark,  Atera joined him with a similar defeated expression, her heavy armour seemed more of hinderance than a help as she settled into the awkward sitting position. Brendon tugged on his belt absently, assured of the light weight held by his emptied pockets. Things weren't panning out quite as well as they should have.

"And you thought you could make this rescue attempt on your own," Brendon tried to lighten the mood with a bit of brevity.

"I probably could have done without the mess you created," she agreed, her tone softer than her words implied.

"What would you have done differently?"

She thought for a moment, looking down at her Carnifex pistol for inspiration, "I would have stolen a guard's armour, put it on, strode up to Marius with a pair of cuffs and led him out the way I came in without so much of a fuss."

"You think I'd agree to that?" a new voice said. Footsteps and a single shot echoed nearby, the heavy  sound of a lifeless body fell from the top of the shipping crate. Marius and Dar'ren had at last met up with their compatriots.

"I wouldn't have given you a choice," Atera said with a grin, sternly grabbing Marius' outstretched hand. He nearly fell over trying to help her to her feet.

"If she is your friend then I don't want to meet your enemies," Dar'ren jibed.

"I think we've _all_ been introduced to Marius' enemies today," Brendon chimed in. "We're sure glad to see you two alive."

"As touching as this reunion is, we need to start moving again," Atera said with her usual seriousness.

"We kind of have a plan, it involves getting to the other end of the bay. Plenty of obstacles and potential ambush points if they decide to get clever. Dar'ren thinks he can rig one of the over land vehicles to get us out of here."

Atera looked over at the salarian, her stern glance made him shrink closer to Marius' side.  "It's true, just get me there and I'll do the rest."

"Better than waiting here for someone to lob a grenade at us," Brendon shrugged.

"Don't give them ideas," Marius said. "We won't be able to move as freely as a group of four. If we get separated, keep moving towards the objective. Its crucial that we get out in the open soon, we can take down these guys once we're free to fight on our own terms."

Marius handed over a fresh clip to everyone except Dar'ren who had been conserving his rounds. Atera opted to go out first with Brendon close behind, Marius went last so that Dar'ren would feel more motivated to press on. They could barely tell which way they were going given the maze-like arrangement of clutter around them but Dar'ren nudged them along in the right direction using a rough schematic he had drawn up on his omnitool.

For once it felt like they had the advantage, the mercs were nowhere to be seen. A pair of heavy boots and disgruntled tones above soon broke the illusion of an easy getaway. Marius recognised the voice immediately, it was the two leaders who had been forced to work together just as his elaborate plan had been about to come to fruition.

"Now we've got the son of a bitch upstart," one taunted.

"Should have known he was too green, he must be some kind of undercover C-sec agent," the other said.

"C-sec doesn't exist any more you dumbass," his comrade spat out, the other man kicked him in the shins for the insult.

Marius was on his own, the other three had gone through the last narrow passage towards the garage area. The two humans were straddling  between the two crates that marked the last hurdle, he contemplated shooting at one in such a manner that he should fall upon the other but the angle for the shot was all wrong.  Instead Marius pointed his weapon at the head of one of them and stared hard, hoping the fake confidence might buy him some time.

"Let's get him!" the first man said after recovering his footing.

"Like hell you will," Marius bit out, readying his trigger finger.

A loud blast came from the direction behind the crates, the sound was accompanied by a surge of red energy. The giant laser bolt was fired from a Mako-class weapon, singing the top crates and creating all sorts of mayhem. The two men were knocked off their perch, shouts rang out all around as the remaining mercs pushed each other out of their way while they scrambled towards the nearest exit.

The tables having turned, Marius raced onwards to see what new toy his comrades had uncovered.


End file.
